I had the fifth and final rooster injection under my kneecap (SHRIEK!) today, so basically this is it. However much relief this gives me is all I’ll be getting. At least for the next six months. Then I can ask my insurance for another round if I need it. At $ 800 per injection.
Now that’s one fancy rooster.
My doctor assured me he’s never had anyone come back in less than a year. That was a welcome bit of news. Not that my doctor’s not a nice guy and all, but I’m in no hurry to see the dude again. At least not when
he’s holding a hugemongous needle.
Turns out, experiencing chronic pain isn’t nearly as much fun as you
may think. It’s actually kind of sucky, to use the psychological term.
There’s a difference between, “Gee, wish I could help you move your piano and all, but you know – THE KNEE.” and “I would go to the biggest, cheapest book sale on earth, but my FREAKING KNEE IS KILLING ME!!”
I’ve never had an injury or pain that didn’t eventually go away on its
own. I’m not liking this. When I complain about it to Paul he suggests
“Just have it replaced!” Oh. Right. Because it is just that easy.
No wonder I’m developing the habit of assaulting him in my sleep. A couple nights ago I pinched then punched him (though the punch missed and hit his pillow). I woke myself up trying to land a left-handed punch, then rolled over and went right back to sleep. And this isn’t the first time that kind of thing has happened. So that’s why he wants me farmed out to a nursing home.
The feeling of aging before my time? Not so fun. Guess all I can do is keep fighting the good fight, hoping someone comes out with artificial cartilage someday. Now that, my friends, would be AWESOME!